Cover

Dedication

In memory of John Webster

The Empress Theatre

Sedgefield, Cheshire

Onstage, the white rabbit performed the perfect pirouette and imagined her dance teacher, Mrs Clarke, urging her on. ‘Well done! Now keep those arms moving and remember, one continuous flow.’ The little girl lifted an arm and extended her fingers gracefully.

The music stopped.

An ear-splitting alarm cut through the shocked silence and, as it reverberated around the theatre, the white rabbit’s supple limbs turned to stone. Only her pink nose twitched as the lights came up. There were six hundred faces staring back at her and they had frozen too, all except her mum, who had stopped recording her nine-year-old daughter’s performance and lowered her phone.

‘The theatre is being evacuated,’ came a tinny announcement. ‘Please remain calm and follow the signs to your nearest exit. Staff will be available to assist and direct you.’ The disembodied voice didn’t sound concerned. If anything, there was a hint of annoyance.

With whiskers quivering, the white rabbit sniffed the air. There was no telltale whiff of smoke, no sign of flickering flames. There had been no bang, no tremor to shake the ancient boards of the stage, nothing to suggest anything was amiss. It was a false alarm, or maybe a fire drill. It happened at school all the time.

The white rabbit turned to the only other figure onstage. The principal dancer was five years older and wore a blue satin tutu with a white apron and matching Alice band; another protégé from the Hilary Clarke School of Dance. She reached out a hand and the white rabbit grasped it. The curtain closed.

‘Well, that was short and sweet,’ muttered Hilary Clarke.

She shared a look with Rose Peagrave who was positioned at the end of the row with eight young charges between them. Rose was Hilary’s most senior dance instructor and most likely candidate to take over the school when Hilary hung up her dance shoes the following year. At seventy-one, her retirement was well overdue, but still, it would be a wrench.

‘Come on, people. Gather up your belongings,’ Rose shouted above the alarm.

Hilary took a deep breath and swallowed her disappointment. This was their first show in the newly renovated Empress Theatre, and it was only a three-day run. She prayed the alarm could be reset quickly so they could resume rather than abandon their opening night. She had allowed herself the indulgence of being part of the audience for this evening only, leaving another of her teachers in charge backstage. Slowly but surely, she was loosening the reins.